Part eleventy billion: yesterday, 2pm
An earthquake hit the East Coast. Perhaps you heard about it. I was grateful for the opportunity to once again display how stellar I am to have around in any sort of emergency, what with my very first reaction being to loudly proclaim "what in the HELL" as my office chair began to shake. And then I went into my boss's office and asked IS THIS AN EARTHQUAKE OMG WHAT DO WE DO CAN I HIDE IN YOUR OFFICE in my most panicked voice.
(Oh, how I wish I were joking... but no, I definitely said the words "can I hide in your office." I don't like to be alone when scary things happen!)
The earthquake was both exciting and scary, I don't care what all the smug people from California say. Yeah, yeah, they eat 5.9 earthquakes for breakfast with a side of organic flaxseed toast over there on the West Coast, I get it. Californians are used to earthquakes. But that's exactly the point -- they're used to them. We here on the East Coast, not so much. I'd like to see Los Angeles wake up to find this in their backyard and be all "whatever" about it:
Although, I must admit: Baltimore did shit its collective pants when Snowmageddon 2009 hit. But that's because Marylanders are a bunch of Snow Pussies. Joel and I were unperturbed -- in fact, it was one of the best weeks of my life! Free week off from work! -- because we are from the Northeast and have seen a few feet of snow before. We are used to it. People in South Caroline are used to seeing alligators lurking around on golf courses, people in Texas are used to seeing rattlesnakes slither around on their porches. People in California are used to earthquakes and that makes them very cool and hip. We alllll get it.
But I'd wager that most Californians don't live in 110-year-old brick houses with 110-year-old brick chimneys which spew 110-year-old bricks and two vacuum canisters worth of 110-year-old brick dust all over the damn place during an earthquake.
This mess took me an hour and a half to clean up and I STILL have to dust the entire house. I think we can all agree that unnecessary dusting is a pretty big fucking deal. Whether you think earthquakes are scary or not.
So I vacuumed and washed the floors and wiped brick dust off every single surface in The Baby's Room (uh, guess it was a smart move to not put the crib right in front of that non-functional, decorative fireplace!) and finished cleaning (except for the dusting part, which I'll do sometime for Sir Fetus turns five) (maybe) just in time to make it to my Tuesday night yoga class. I changed, walked out the door and...
Part eleventy million and one
... realized I'd just locked myself out of the house. And this yoga class is one I need to drive to, so I was screwed.
Part eleventy million and two
I called Joel to see what time he might be planning to come home from work. As luck would have it he was just packing up to come home! He sped home on his bike, opened the door, I gave him a quick kiss and waddled off towards the car as quickly as I could.
Part eleventy million and three
Hmm. It seems that the chimney of the house our car was parked in front of enjoyed the earthquake even less than ours did. And it showed it by collapsing and chucking bricks down onto the street. Right onto our car.
So. That happened. The earthquake made me miss yoga. How's that for ruin and devastation, West Coast earthquake scoffers? I MISSED YOGA!